All our stories are unique
We are all accidents in being, whether we know or we neglect the feeling,
We live through a series of jumps, of jumps and falls and trips and jumps
We meet acquaintances along the way who leave an impact, we love them or hate them.
Yet, they leave marks upon us.
And as the years pass, and each man thinks hard.
His uniqueness sets him apart.
Yet all that he knows, all that he has learnt,
is a sum of all the parts.
We do die like a lion or a tiger, old and tired.
We have nothing left but a broken bag of hearts.
Yet what the lion has to show, is that face full of scars.
And it is the same for us too, just a lifetime of collecting trinkets in life's own bazaar.
We live through a series of jumps, of jumps and falls and trips and jumps
We meet acquaintances along the way who leave an impact, we love them or hate them.
Yet, they leave marks upon us.
And as the years pass, and each man thinks hard.
His uniqueness sets him apart.
Yet all that he knows, all that he has learnt,
is a sum of all the parts.
We do die like a lion or a tiger, old and tired.
We have nothing left but a broken bag of hearts.
Yet what the lion has to show, is that face full of scars.
And it is the same for us too, just a lifetime of collecting trinkets in life's own bazaar.
